Aphrodite Girls
by LunaPadma
Summary: Have you ever tried to stereotype the stereotyped?
1. They Were Right

**Note: I just got flamed. I don't judge people because of their heritage, as that is racist. I do think that people would judge Aphrodite's kids, because of their rite of passage. Also, anything not in italics is what people are telling Sean about Aphrodite's cabin, except the last line, which is his thoughts. So if you have a problem, go somewhere else.**

Stay away from Aphrodite girls.

They break hearts.

No substance.

All they care about is their clothes.

You're just their type.

Young.

Cute.

Innocent.

"_Hey, I'm Jenna."_

"_You're Aphrodite?"_

"_Got a problem with that, newbie?"_

Stay away from them.

They do it all for fun.

They're idiots.

Pointless wastes of space.

"_Hey, Sean."_

"_What?"_

"_Settle a debate for us: doesn't Robert Pattinson's hair look like it could spawn new life?"_

They have their mom's blessing to wreak havoc.

They split couples because they can.

They drove someone to suicide.

Just avoid them.

"_Hey, Jenna."_

"_What's up?"_

"_Wanna come to the fireworks with me?"_

If you see them coming, run.

You won't see their plan until it's too late.

Don't take the chance.

Just go.

"_Sean."_

"_What? What could you possibly want?"_

"_I wanted to say I'm sorry."_

They always have their eyes on someone.

Avoid their gaze entirely.

They have a sixth sense for romance.

So don't try anything.

You never know what's real with them.

"_Sorry? I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I ever got involved with you."_

"_Sean! Listen to me! It wasn't my fault! It was this Aphrodite thing, you wouldn't understand!"_

"_Understand what, Jenna? That you made out with my brother at a party? What is there to not understand?"_

They were right.


	2. The Most Beautiful

Some people look at the Aphrodite girls and say, "They aren't _that_ hot."

And they're right. They _aren't_ that hot. They aren't Tyra Banks and Megan Fox and Angelina Jolie.

**But that's because those people have only seen them separately**.

No single Aphrodite girl will ever be the most beautiful girl in the world. They can't be. Their sisters are their own worst enemies.

No girl will ever be born with

Janie's chocolate brown waves

and

_Lacy's bright blue eyes_

and

_**Katrina's porcelain skin**_

and

_**Piper's luscious red lips**_

and

**Drew's elegant piano-player hands**

and

**Hannah's ski-slope nose**

and

_Nora's happy-go-lucky optimism_.

* * *

><p>The most beautiful girl in the world resides in the Aphrodite cabin.<p>

She's just not actually one person.


	3. Plastic

Hannah has been described as plastic once too often.

Drew hates how fake she's become.

Janie used to laugh at those phonies at the popular kids table. Now she is one.

Before Camp Half-Blood, Hannah was a tomboy, an excellent soccer player.

Drew had been a gifted pianist.

Janie was aiming to be a scientist.

But then, they were claimed.

And everyone _assumed_ that they had to be plastic and fake. That their clothes were that important. That their hair better be model-perfect.

And they were molded by the older generation until they resembled Barbie dolls. Because that was what everyone expected.

So Hannah gave up on soccer and said goodbye to all her friends.

So Drew pushed her beloved Baby Grand down the stairs.

So Janie put down the books and picked up the magazines.

That was why everyone hated Piper.

She escaped the stereotyping.

She was still her own person.

_And not what everyone wanted her to be._


	4. Perfect

Perfection.

Nora isn't perfect.

But everyone thinks she is.

She's bright and happy every day.

She's pretty.

Perfect boyfriend.

Perfect.

Nora is far from perfect.

But nobody believes her.

Her dad expects so much more than she can deliver.

She's the ugliest of her siblings.

He's cheating on her.

Faultless.

Nora is full of cracks.

She can't raise that B in Science.

She just knows her mom is disappointed in her.

She doesn't even like him anyway.

And she just can't take it anymore.

So she writes a note.

_Sorry._

_I'm not perfect._

And she takes a knife.

And she disappears.

To a place where nobody cares

If she's perfect

Or not.


	5. Didn't Know

**Drew's a bitch. Everyone says so. She likes to torment people.**

_Lacy's so insecure. She needs to grow a spine. It's so annoying._

Katrina's such a whore. She'll sleep with anything with a pulse.

**She called me a psycho bitch and said that the only difference between us was the self-righteous stick up my ass.**

_She keeps bugging me. Like, do I look okay? Is my hair pretty? Nobody should need that much reassurance._

She came onto Jason yesterday. Who the hell does she think she is? Splitting up happy couples just so she can get some?

**When I asked her what right she had to say that about me, she asked me what right I had to waltz into an institution I'll never understand and steal her rightful power.**

_I asked her why it mattered so much, and she threw a copy of _Seventeen_ at me and said that she just wants to be perceived as someone who had their shit together, unlike me._

I asked her to stop hitting on anyone with a dick in their pants, and she asked me to stop being a hypocritical jackass who only cares about her "oh so precious boyfriend".

**Drew broke down today. It was kind of creepy.**

_I ran into Lacy's tormenters. I didn't even know she'd been bullied._

I overheard Katrina call her sister, Lauren. Her sister's a nightmare.

**Did you know Drew used to play the piano? But she quit because Aphrodite girls don't **_**do**_** pianos.**

_Lacy's been bullied for six months, and she didn't tell me. I used to think we were close, but I had to find out from Harley, Leo's little brother._

Katrina's sister basically told her "Go find a boyfriend, you whore." Who tells that to their own sister?

**Drew's mask is back on. She told me to back off or she was going to eviscerate me and hang her jewelry from my rib cage. I think she wants to forget she ever cried in front of me. I don't really blame her.**

_I offered to help Lacy pick out an outfit, and she snorted. She told me that she would rather take fashion advice from a drunken satyr who thinks he's Harry Potter. What did I do?_

Katrina somehow found out that I heard her phone call with Lauren. She's making my life a living hell. She told the Apollo cabin that Jason told her that I have a nipple piercing and a dreamcatcher tattooed on my ass. Which is not only completely false, but also kind of racist.

_**How did I not know what's going on? I'm the worst head counselor ever.**_


	6. But She Did

Jenna really thought she was different.

But she wasn't.

She thought she had pulled a Silena.

But she didn't.

She honestly believed she loved Sean.

But it wasn't enough.

She could have sworn she wasn't that girl.

But she was.

She never thought she would ever cheat.

But she did.

She didn't even think that Jake Taylor was that hot.

But she made out with him anyway.

She didn't know why she did it.

But that didn't matter to Sean.

She wanted him back.

But he didn't want her.

She wanted to blame Drew.

But it was her fault.

She wished it never happened.

_But it did._


	7. At Night

She sneaks out at night and writes horrible truths about herself on the bathroom mirrors.

He's the only one who knows it's her.

She's doing it for attention

_Orsohe_**thinks**

The others talk about who says those things

_Scrawled in her trademark pink _**eyeliner**

But she doesn't listen for the _nice_ things

But the ones that say, _You're right._

But _he_ can't see that.

Once or twice, she goes _shortandsweet_

With a trademark

_**B**_

_**I**_

_**T**_

_**C**_

_**H**_

But other times, she puts some real thought into it

_Because roses are red,_

_And violets aren't pink_

_Nobody cares about you_

_You don't ever think_

He thinks she likes the talking

The gossip

The **lies**

_She could care less about the gossip and the lies_

_It's the truth she's after_

And then he finds her alone

And he tells her what he knows

_But what do they say about assumptions?_

**My fatal flaw is honesty**

_No wait, that's not true, it's hubris_

**I do it for me**

_People __**die**__ from fatal flaws_

_And honey, I have far too much class to die that way_

**Can't a girl counteract things?**

_We do it for lines, sun, that cinnamon bun at the mall_

**So what's the problem**

_With_

_My_

_Truths?_


	8. College

Notre Dame Common App Supplement-What is the greatest obstacle that you have had to overcome?-limit 500 words.

_The greatest obstacle I've ever been faced with isn't one I've overcome. I'm still trying to overcome it. _

_I am trying to overcome expectations. Not the expectations of my father, who loves me, nor the expectations of my mother, who rarely enters my life. The expectations of my peers._

_My mother is a model, and every year since I was ten, I have been sent to a private camp for the children of rich people. Business moguls, actors, rock stars, weapons dealers, the camp does not discriminate. I spent every summer living in a cabin with about ten other children of models and maybe one or two actors._

_The older campers told me that being smart and doing well in school was looked down on for children like us. Our job was to be pretty and to dress in the 'right' clothes, to have the 'right' hair, and to never look anything worse than perfect. Our job was also to break the hearts of the boys at camp._

_I bought into these beliefs. I watched as campers graduated and others filled in. I watched as the next campers were brainwashed in much the same way I was. I slowly turned from the brainwashee to the brainwasher. As for my grades, they pretty much went down the toilet._

_When I turned fifteen, our camp was stormed by a hostile group of would-be kidnappers. One of the oldest girls, who had not totally bought into the beliefs of our cabin, died in this attempted kidnapping. Soon after that, one of my best friends, tired of being perfect and of living up to everyone else's expectations, committed suicide._

_That year, a fifteen-year-old girl came to our cabin. She was much older than most of the new campers, and she was the illegitimate daughter of a famous actor and a supermodel. But she didn't buy into the beliefs of beauty and perfection. She shattered our cabin's beliefs that we had to be perfect and beautiful, just because of who our parents are. _

_This realization was not an easy one to take. I was in my sophomore year, perfectly ready to pull in the same Bs and Cs, with the occasional D, I received Freshman year, when the idea that I did not have to pretend to not care about grades really stuck with me. And while I know that my grades could be better, I also know that this is the best I can produce._

_Every year I go back to that same camp, and I try my hardest not to fall into the same trap that so many girls before me have fallen into. And every year, it is difficult. However, every year it gets easier with the knowledge that I am getting better, and I am becoming more like who I should have been for so many years, instead of pretending to be the girl everyone expected me to be._


	9. Pathways

Sometimes, Drew felt like Marilyn Monroe.

It wasn't just her propensity for standing over subway grates, or her name change. (Nice Japanese girls aren't named after Barrymores, but you didn't hear it from her.)

It was the crazy, never-there mother. It was the complete lack of a role model growing up. (It was only her, her father, and her crazy-religious grandmother.) It was the filling of the role that everyone cast her in. It was being so much more than the bitchy sex icon of Cabin Ten.

It was the string of boys, and never feeling connected to anyone. It was her piano.

It was everything and nothing and somehow it was both at the same time.

_Lacy spends a good portion of her time feeling like Marie Antoinette._

_Because when she wants to learn and be serious, everyone kind of chuckles dismissively because Lacy is an Aphrodite girl and her only job is to be light and happy and carefree and stupid._

_But when Lacy masters that, and she does it like a champ, they all glare at her and yell at her for not being "serious". She wants to scream at them to make up their minds sometimes, because she's sick of it. She can't do both._

_So she'll keep being pretty and dumb because even when they want her to be serious and to learn, nobody's exactly offering to teach her differently._

_So you know what? Let them eat cake. And screw the consequences._

**Katrina's never been one to hide it—Mata Hari is basically her role model.**

**Minus the part where she gets killed by the French. Katrina has class, after all.**

**But if you think that Silena was the only spy in town, then you are so wrong, it's actually embarrassing. Sure, Lena passed on most of the Council stuff, but Katrina was the one who got the real scoops.**

**Boys will say just about anything when they're in bed with a pretty girl. Especially if they aren't sure if they're going to come back home. And if Katrina was there with a friendly ear, well, wasn't that a good thing? Who else are these boys supposed to confess their hopes and fears to? **

**And if she so happens to share that information—well, she's only human. How is she supposed to keep it all bottled up. What they do with that information is their own problem. Kat's already made her peace with the other side.**

**She'll deny it if you ask, but, honestly, why would you need to?**

Janie will probably end up just like Hedy Lamarr.

Hedy Lamarr is famous for two things—having the first sex scene in a non-porno and inventing frequency hopping. She was the most beautiful girl in the world, and she died alone and penniless with no respect.

Hedy Lamarr changed the field of science, but nobody realized it until long after it happened. Nobody respected her contributions until after she was dead.

Janie knows that's her fate. She's smarter than most, she has ideas—good ones—but she also has big boobs and a tiny waist. And symmetrical features. And good cheekbones, great hair, and a talent for makeup. She's pretty, and that will always be her downfall.

She'll change the field of science one day, but what are the odds people will notice?

_**There are only so many paths, and you'd be hard-pressed to find one an Aphrodite girl hasn't gotten to first.**_


	10. Wanna Hear a Joke?

"Hey…" Mitchell says, from where he lies on a bed. "Hey, wanna hear a joke?"

The other campers nod from where they sit or lie in the cabin.

"Happily ever after."

This would probably be less funny, if not for the dozen or so bottles of rum, vodka, and tequila sprinkled throughout the room.

Drew, perched on top of the armoire like a giant eagle with a bottle of whiskey clutched in her manicured fingers, throws her head back and roars. "You wanna hear another one?" she asks. "This one's really good."

"Shoot," Lacy says, from her spot underneath Piper's bed.

"Lucky," Drew drawls, enunciating ever syllable. "Demigod."

Lacy cackles, which soon turns into hiccups.

"Hey, hey, I got one," Janie says, laughing so hard, she can barely get the words out. "How about…true love?"

Katrina accidentally shoots vodka out of her nose, which of course only makes her laugh harder.

Then the door flies open. Piper stands there, her hand still on the doorknob. She stays silent for a moment, absorbing the scene before her. "What's going on?" she asks.

Drew leaps down from the armoire, landing in a crouch. She stands up and promptly walks into a ladder. She unsteadily makes her way to the door. "Party," she says, taking a large drink from her bottle of whiskey. "You…were not invited."

Lacy begins to laugh. Piper looks from her to Drew. "Is she drunk?" Piper asks.

"Maybe. Mitchy? Lacy drunk?" Drew yells across the room.

"Define drunk," Mitchell says, falling sideways onto the bed. He picks himself back up. "Lace, on a scale of one to ten, how many fingers am I holding up?" He holds up three on his left hand and four on his right.

Lacy laughs.

Drew nods. "Drunk as a skunk on a trunk with a…what rhymes with skunk?"

"She's thirteen! How irresponsible can you get, Drew?"

"Relax, Pipey, she's fine. Ha, your name sounds like peepee. 'Sides, she barely had any. Made sure of it myself."

"I'm going to tell Chiron about this," Piper says dangerously.

"Who do you think got us the booze? Dionysus himself, that fat…witch."

"What?"

"No, 'm not a slut. 'Trina's the one sleeping with him. But don't blame her, Lauren's a bitch and she had no choice. Well, she did, but not much. You never seen Lauren."

Piper dismisses this with a wave of her hand. Everyone knows Katrina would sleep with anything with a penis. "Why?"

"Forget," Hannah said, rocking an empty Jack Daniels like a baby.

"You forgot?!" Piper nearly explodes.

Ryan Kingston shakes his head so vigorously; he falls over on top of Janie. "To forget," he says, not bothering to sit back up.

"Forget what?" Piper asks.

Simultaneously, everyone turns toward Jenna, who's been sitting in a trashcan for the last hour and a half.

"When the Irish have wakes, they get drunk and are merry," she says. Jenna is nothing if not a coherent drunk. "When Aphrodite girls—"

"And boys," Oliver Nortman interjects.

"And boys," Jenna concedes. "When we have wakes, we get drunk and are sad."

"They get drunk to remember. We get drunk to forget," Drew says.

"Who's the wake for?" Piper asked, scared.

Drew opens her mouth, but a look from Jenna silences her. "I'll tell it," Jenna says.

Drew retreats to the safety of her armoire, using Mitchell and Cameron's bunk as a ladder to reach the top.

"Nora," Jenna says, before sinking lower into her trash can. "Don't go into the bathroom."

Piper walks quickly over to Cameron, who is passed out clutching a bottle of tequila. She raises it to her lips and takes a big swallow, one that makes her throat burn and chases away the emptiness. She takes another, then another.

Then, "Hey, wanna hear a joke?"


	11. Assorted Drabbles

Drew refuses to be the Lois Lane to anyone's Superman.

She just wishes Piper felt the same.

She's _super_, she's a _hero_, she's on a _quest_, she could do so much more than "Omigod, Jason!"

She could "Omigod, die, bitch!" She could "I'm a strong independent Cherokee woman who don't need no man." She could "Omigod, I'm too fucking fabulous to just be the pretty one, with the silverhoney voice and the dreamyadonis boyfriend."

But she didn't. And that is what Drew hated, more than anything. Because at least Drew was a bitch.

And at least she wasn't "Omigod, Jason!"

* * *

><p>Silver was never her color. Maybe that was ironic.<p>

Because she'd been a Hunter until she was claimed and drummed out.

And then she was counselor and what goes better with pink than silver?

And then she was a spy and silver scythes are in this season, you know?

And then Clarisse became her friend and steel weapons weren't exactly gold.

And then Charlie, who did so much with metal, and wasn't that all silver, too?

And she wants to be the Golden Girl but it's impossible with all this silver choking her.

Damn the red undertones in her skin.

* * *

><p>The options were laid out in front of her: Drew, Piper, Sadie.<p>

Drew: the bitch of Camp Half-Blood, who was petty and vindictive and cruel and everything bad the other cabins accused them of. _And completely true to herself._

Piper: the angel of Camp Half-Blood, who was beautiful and kind and loving and embraced everything good about love. _And only made time for Jason._

Sadie: an average mortal, who was self-obsessed and a mortal and friendly and dramatic and a bit like a mother. _And didn't really care what Lacy had to say._

_She would be Lacy. And only Lacy._

* * *

><p>Piper stands in the center of the cabin as her sisters get ready for <em>Aphrodisia<em>. She watches as each girl dons the sort of battle armor slutty Amazons wear. A whole lot of tiny leather bands and not enough chain mail.

Drew looks at her with a faint challenging smirk. "Come on, Piper, what's the problem? You don't think you're better than us, right?"

Piper shakes her head. "No, but—"

"You're an Aphrodite girl, aren't you?" Katrina asks. "Join your sisters."

"You're coming, right?" Lacy asks.

"What do we do for _Aphrodisia_?" Piper says.

Hannah laughs. "Whoever shows up!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The last one is based on "Lovely Ladies" from the musical Les Miserables.**

**Because I like Les Mis and prostitutes and Aphrodite girls.**

**The actual part I borrowed from was: "Come on, dearie, why all the fuss? You're no grander than the rest of us. Life has dropped you at the bottom of the heap. Join you sisters, make money in your sleep." The last line is based on "Poor men, rich men, leaders of the land. See them with their trousers off, they're never quite as grand."**

**Also this A/N qualifies as a drabble.**


	12. She

_AU. Titans win._

When people enter the Execution Ring

some were dragged

some were marched

_**She**_ glides

Head high

Shoulders back

Boobs out.

When **he **enters the Ring

some cry

some plead

_**She**_ laughs.

_**She**_ laughs like _**She**_ hasn't

Since Kim Kardashian said I do

Since Taylor Swift started dating anyone

Since someone said "True Love"

And **he** looks at _**Her**_ and asks

"Why?"

_**She**_ smiles

and one last giggle escapes

and says "Because

This is the only time a boy like **you**

will ever

get a girl

like _**Me**_."

And _**She**_ stares at **him** with

iceprincess eyes

And blondeflowy hair.

_**She**_ dares **him** to do it.

**he** can't. **he** doesn't think anyone could.

_**She**_ glides out the way _**She**_ came

Head high

Shoulders back

Boobs out

because gods know nobody can kill _**Her**_ now.

_that was the first time._

When people come into the _Amphora_,

some slink

some sneak

_**She**_ glides in

Head high

Shoulders back

Boobs out.

At least three mugs were dropped.

**he** buys _**Her**_ a drink

and asks how _**She**_ ended up

in a dirty old bar off the highway

for servants of the Titans

when it's so obvious

_**She's**_ a supporter of the gods.

_**She**_ shrugs.

"The wind,"

_**She**_ says.

_**She**_ doesn't care to elaborate.

"How about you?"

**he** sighs.

"It's easy for

_**You**_.

_**You**_ got claimed.

_**Your**_ mother loved _**You**_.

**mine**—**mine** never did.

At least

the Titans

pretended to care."

_**She**_ stands abruptly.

"Thanks for the drink."

_**She**_ glides out the way _**She**_ came

Head high

Shoulders back

Boobs out.

_that was the second time._

When people enter the Execution Ring

some drag their feet

some try to run

_**She**_ glides in

Head high

Shoulders back

Boobs out.

and stops to admire the Ring.

"When _**I**_ said _**I **_wanted

a ring,

_**I **_meant the other kind,"

_**She**_ remarks.

When **he** enters the Ring,

some beg

some confess

_**She**_ glides forward

Head high

Shoulders back

Boobs out.

_**She**_ presses

those frostedcoral

rosebud lips

against **his**.

As guards rush forward

_**She**_ smiles—

**he** can feel _**Her**_ smile

—and breaks it off.

"What

Was

That?"

**his** superior asks.

"That?"

_**She**_ asks.

"That was a

last request.

No, that was

no kiss.

This is a kiss."

_**She**_ grabs him and—

**ohmygods.**

while **he's** distracted

_**She**_ takes **his**

dagger.

And—

—

—

_**She**_ exits life the way _**She**_ came

(with _**Her**_ iceprincess eyes

and blondeflowy hair

and frostedcoral rosebud lips)

Head high

Shoulders back

Boobs out.

_that was the third time._

**he** leaves the life

the way _**She**_ would have

Head high

Shoulders back

Boobs ou—

no.

Chest out.

**he** isn't _**Her**_.

and

a kiss

(and a knife)

pressed against

**his** heart.


	13. Sometimes

Sometimes, you just have to stand on top of the last line of defense. (Because where else is everyone gonna see you?)

And sometimes, you have to proclaim the general inanity of certain wars. (Let's be real, Gaia's trying to destroy civilization and we're fighting each other.)

Sometimes, you have to explain what Gaia probably did. (You're a daughter of Aphrodite, charmspeak is just daily life.)

And sometimes, they're stubborn. (Apparently, they don't have charmspeak in Rome.)

So sometimes, you have to have your sister help you out with a demonstration. (Drew's always up for senseless anarchy.)

And then sometimes, she has to make someone attack their own army. (In her defense, Octavian deserved it.)

And sometimes, that pisses people off. (Which you get, but still.)

Sometimes, before levelheadedness wins out, somebody fires. (You didn't even think Romans used bows.)

And sometimes that arrow hits you in the chest. (Though why they aimed at you is beyond you, since Drew's the charmspeaker.)

Sometimes, the last thing you hear is your sister telling you that you'll go down in history as the girl who ended the war between the Greeks and Romans. (Famous is the new popular, and Aphrodite's good at popular.)

And sometimes, that's enough. (Drew hates compliments the same way she hates crocsnsocks: she thinks they're tacky, touristy, and outdated.)

Sometimes you die for a purpose greater than yourself. (Even though that wasn't really the point.)

And sometimes that starts because you just really don't want to die for pointlessness. (It's bad enough you have to die in the first place.)

So sometimes, the saying reads "If you won't stand for nothing, you'll fall for something." (Not that you remember what the saying is in the first place, but still.)

It's a really good thing this only happens sometimes, right?


	14. Deep

Beauty is only skin deep?

That's a fucking lie if I ever heard one. Don't you dare try and tell me any different. I know.

I know how deep beauty goes. I know about your "beautiful soul". I know how you think that you're "pretty on the inside."

I'm a daughter of Aphrodite. I know beauty.

Beauty is bone-deep, marrow-deep.

Because beauty is written into your DNA. And there's nothing deeper than that.


	15. Venus Girls

As older half-brothers go, Aeneas is the worst.

Because none of the other members of the Legion had older brothers who were the subjects of epic poetry.

(Unless you counted the idiot in Cohort 3 who claimed his ancestors included Hercules, Ulysses, Achilles, and Elvis.

Nobody did.)

Because when your older brother does things like start Rome or something, it makes it a lot harder to, say, fall back on your Goddess-given talents of The Art of Mascara.

Or your innate skill with the curling iron.

And people don't believe you when you say that you actually suck at sword-fighting and your aim is limited to eyeliner and hairspray.

And when you try to skip sword practice, because, honestly, the only thing that's getting better is your tan, they look at you and shake their heads and tell you that "Aeneas never skipped."

Yeah, well, Aeneas is dead.

And you aren't him.

At night, you pray that there's a Greek camp that doesn't expect its Venus girls to live up to Aeneas.

You don't realize that the girls over there would kill to be expected to do something other than guys and makeup.


	16. Don't Tell Charlie

Okay, say there's a girl. And her name is Silena.

And there's a boy, too. There's always a boy. His name is Luke, and he is literally the most attractive boy she has ever seen. And she's a daughter of Aphrodite, so you know she's seen a lot of good-looking boys.

But it's not just his hair. He's also caring and sweet and nice and Inigo Montoya with a sword and he did a quest and has actual legitimate battle scars and just a touch of emo daddy issues. Yeah. He's basically perfect.

And she's so in love with him that it's pathetic and she knows it but ohmygods he's _so hot_.

And then he notices her. And he asks her to do something, and it's so little it barely matters. And besides, his reasoning is about as beautiful as his abs.

And so he asks her to do more stuff, and more, and more. But he has that crooked smirk and it basically makes her want to bang his brains out. So she does it.

And then she meets this boy named Charlie. Who isn't good-looking. Or Inigo Montoya with a sword. To her knowledge, he's never done a quest, he doesn't have legitimate battle scars, and he possesses no emo daddy issues. Actually, he's a demigod, so that's probably a yes on the daddy issues. All demigods have daddy or mommy issues. Or both.

But he's caring and sweet and nice and he _notices_ her. Not her ass or her boobs or her hair, _her_. Like, as a human being. And that doesn't happen much.

And besides, he has his own crooked smirk and it basically makes her want to bang his brains out. She likes crooked smirks.

But _Luke_. Gods, she kind of hates him as a person, but he is such an attractive individual. And by then she's in too deep and you don't quit the Titans, the Titans quit you. It's like the Godfather, but for Greeks, not Italians, and Luke is infinitely hotter than Marlon Brando.

But Charlie. She loves him, she thinks, and that doesn't happen for Aphrodite girls that often. Love. And it feels different from Luke, because Charlie actually maybe possibly loves her back and Luke doesn't care if she's her or Will Solace.

But what's she supposed to do? She keeps passing information to him and she keeps getting turned on like a TV set by his crooked smirk. And she keeps loving Charlie.

And then Luke blows him up. Charlie. And suddenly that crooked smirk is the most god-awful heinous Miley-Cyrus-snaggletooth grimace. And she's no longer attracted to him and she keeps wondering why the Hades this couldn't have happened months ago.

So she stops. And she sees her chance in a suit of armor reeking with sweat and she leads for once in her godsdamned life.

She goes out a hero, which is more than she deserves.

She's the first person in a century to argue for Asphodel, but they ignore her. And she's sent to Elysium with Charlie and she thinks she could finally be happy.

And then she hears what Luke did and he shows up in her area and guess what? He still has that crooked smirk. And she still kind of wants to bang his brains out.

Don't tell Charlie.


	17. Aphrodite Cats

Aphrodite girls are like cats—they spend most of their time lounging around, they tolerate humanity solely for the purpose of being pampered, and they will claw you when you stand in their sun.

And they always land on their feet.

Piper's a lion, all buddy-buddy and community and doing all the work while the big lion eats first. She doesn't complain, because if she's really lucky, the big lion will come and give her one of those smiles that melt her heart and they'll have wild sex all night long. She's one of many to him, and she knows it, but inside, she knows she's special.

Drew? She's a fucking tigress. Nobody messes with her, because she will rip your throat out with one well-placed bite of her red-stained lips. If you aren't a threat (and really, who is?) she'll even let you have her leftovers.

Lacy's a fat Persian, the kind everyone thinks isn't dangerous because she spends her time in that one patch of sunlight on the carpet napping. The kind you think is only being friendly when she snuggles up against your legs when you're at the top of the flight of stairs.

Katrina's a cheetah. She moves fast, all of her kittens have different baby daddies, and she only tolerates other cheetahs when she's ready to have sex. Oh, and you better be quick about that one and not hang around, or else there will be blood, and it won't be hers.

Hannah is a sand cat. She's hot. She's very, very hot. She's pale blonde and tiny, to the point where people don't think she's a threat. In fact, for unknown reasons, they think she's tame or something. She is not tame. She's a fucking wild animal and don't you dare forget that.

Janie? She's a bobcat. She's never met a habitat (or a type of meat) that she doesn't like. She's equally at home in the wilds of New York to Houston's suburbs. Nothing scares her, nothing hunts her, nothing doesn't feed her. She adapts like no other Aphrodite cat and, for that reason, she will make it the longest in the real world away from their wildlife preserves.

Jenna's a jaguar. She's perfectly aware of the alliteration, so don't bother pointing it out to her unless you want to meet the other reason she's a jaguar. Much like them, her bite is far worse than her bark.

Like every family, they have their extinct branches, too. Nobody sees a saber-toothed tiger walking down the street, or an American lion anymore. Survival of the fittest, you know? Some cats just couldn't cut it.

Not all Aphrodite girls could land on their feet.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I really hate to do this; these bug the crap out of me. But I know a lot of you are reading this and it would mean a lot to me if you would take the time to review.  
><strong>


	18. Whore

Everyone gets something from their parents. Percy Jackson controls water and, like, fish because of his daddy. And Beckendorf is a blacksmith, or whatever the modern-day equivalent is, for the same reason.

Well, my mother doesn't _do_ water. Or blacksmithing.

No, my mother is a whore, and I guess that makes me one, too.

All of us are whores. Even waiting-til-marriage Lacy. (Can you be a whore at twelve? I was.) Even Jason-Lovers Anonymous Piper. Even me.

Especially me.

What makes you a whore?

If being a whore means your mother was a whore, then I am a whore.

If being a whore means I have a lot of sex, then I am a whore.

If being a whore means I've sold sex for money, then I am a whore.

If being a whore means I am pregnant out of wedlock, with no father in sight, then I am undoubtedly a whore.

I wonder what my child will get from me, and what they'll get from him.

I hope it'll be a girl, and I hope that she looks like me.

But I hope she has his eyes, those passionate, wild, purple eyes. I hope she'll have his energy. He can give a roomful of people energy, and he's always been the life of the party. And I hope she'll have his strength. It takes a better person than me to give up the thing that defines you. Clearly, I couldn't give up sex. Not for a week, and definitely not for a hundred years.

I hope she's a whore, but in the best possible way. (Can I say that, as her mother?) I hope she's passionate and free. I hope that she loves often.

I hope she's powerful and beautiful and true to herself. I hope she scares the insecure girls, and I hope they try to feel better by putting her down. But I hope she owns those labels and doesn't let them bother her.

Most of all, I hope she's unlike me, and unlike my father.

I hope—pray—that she can resist a god.


	19. Seven Things

_The seven things I hate about you_

The truth was, Piper kind of hated her cabin. But that was okay, since, by and large, they hated her back. It's not like she made up any reasons as to why she hated them. They were all fair, legitimate reasons.

_You're vain_

"I'm really pretty," Hannah said, staring into the mirror. She pushed her long, blonde shampoo-commercial hair over her shoulder and pouted.

"Yeah, I guess," Piper said. "Can you leave? I really have to pee."

"But I'm like, really pretty," Hannah said, completely ignoring Piper.

"Yeah, you're pretty. But I'm about to pee my pants, so if you could hurry it up a bit…"

"Just because you aren't as pretty as me doesn't mean you can rush me, Piper." Hannah rolled her eyes, but she finally left.

_Your games_

"Why did Katie just throw rotten strawberries at our cabin?" Piper asked.

Drew glanced up from _Teen Vogue_. "Oh, I kind of made out with Travis."

"Why?" Katrina asked. "He's a horrible kisser."

"I know, but I was bored and this whole Tratie thing hasn't exactly been Percabeth," Drew whined. "And rompers are in this season. Who in their right mind wears rompers?"

Lacy, who was wearing a blue flower-patterned romper, looked hurt.

Piper was not entirely sure what Drew had just said, but she said, "They got together four days ago!"

"I _know!_ They needed more drama, if you ask me."

"Weren't you the one who got them together?" Piper asked.

"So?"

There wasn't really a response to that.

_You're insecure_

"These boots make my ankles look fat!" Lacy whined.

"You look fine, Lacy," Piper sighed.

Lacy studied her ankles in the mirror. "And they make me look trashy."

"You look great, Lacy," Piper said. "Really."

Lacy didn't respond, but everyone in the room could feel her contentedness.

_You love me, you like her_

"Will Solace is the best sex I've had in at least a month!" Katrina proclaimed to the cabin. "Why didn't I sleep with him earlier?"

"Will? What happened to Pollux?" Piper asked.

"Well, Pollux was not okay with me doing his dad on the side, so I broke it off. And he was clingy. He invited me to the fireworks!"

"Yeah, guys do that when they like a girl," Piper said, a bit confused.

"I don't _do_ attachment, Piper. Where have you been?"

_You make me laugh, you make me cry_

One night, when Piper was worrying about the sudden appearance of the possible girlfriend Reyna Lopez, her lower bunkmate, Nora, said, "Screw him."

"Excuse me?" Piper remembered asking.

"Just screw him. The guy. And I mean both 'he ain't worth your time, girlfriend!' and 'just do him already!'"

Somehow, it was the funniest thing Piper had ever heard. She didn't know how, but it was.

That's why it hurt so much when Nora died.

_I don't know which side to buy_

At three in the morning, Piper was woken Janie's mutterings. Something about force or resistance or acceleration, Piper never could tell. An omega was involved, and the letter 'F' was used liberally.

"Janie, what're you doing?" Piper asked blearily.

"I can't get this last Physics problem," Janie responded, not looking away from her laptop. "Malcolm couldn't get it either, that's why he asked me. But he doesn't think I'd get it, and I am not going to prove him right."

"Oh," Piper said. She didn't really know how to respond. "Have fun, then."

Just after breakfast, she heard Janie talking to two of her friends, daughters of Apollo. "Oh my gods. Then she tried to wear a _burgundy_ bikini. With an orange sarong! Like, who does that? Is she blind? Does she _want_ to embarrass me? Like, this party is a big deal to me! Kevin's gonna be there!"

"Totally," one said.

"So what'd you do?" the second asked.

"I made her change, of course! This was, like, my last chance to hook up with Kevin. And I couldn't have her hanging off me looking like _that._ She was sups pissy about the whole thing though. Like, who does she think she is? I like, invented her. How dare she?"

"Omigods, you're so right," the second girl said.

Piper suddenly felt sick and moved on.

_Your friends? They're jerks. When you act like them, just know it hurts._

Jenna was one of her favorite sisters. Granted, there was little competition from Drew or Katrina, but still. Piper genuinely tolerated her.

But Jenna's friends were bastards. Two children of Ares, Kiara and Perry, and a daughter of Apollo, Ingrid. They all hated Piper with a passion generally reserved for Gaia or, like, Drew or something.

And when Jenna was there with them, she was the biggest bitch of the entire Aphrodite cabin. Which was actually rather impressive, when you thought about it.

"Look who it is!" Ingrid called from where she was sunbathing on the roof of the Apollo cabin.

"It can't be!" Jenna said, running to the edge of the roof for a better look.

"Is Peppy Pretty Prissy…" Kiara began.

"Precious Proper Piper without her boyfriend?" Perry finished.

"I never thought I'd see the day!" Jenna swooned.

"Shut up!" Piper called back. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

Ingrid shook her head. "Don't you?" she asked. "Jason, perhaps?"

Piper shook her head and walked on, pretending like they weren't there. It didn't work. She could still hear them as she headed back to her cabin.

She'd ask what Jenna saw in them, but that was too mom-ish, even for her.

_I wanna be with the one I know._

Piper did not know Silena. She had never met Silena. She knew exactly two things about Silena: that she actually, like, for realsies, fell in love, and she was a spy for the Titans WHO WAS A HERO, GODSDAMMIT!

Now, Piper didn't claim to know much about the story. But considering Silena had sold out so many demigods (like her quote-unquote boyfriend) to the Titans, Piper didn't think she qualified as a HERO GODSDAMMIT.

More like a traitor.

It kind of pissed her off that everyone compared the two of them. If they compared her to Drew, she would at least accept it. She knew Drew. She had her own opinion on Drew.

All she had about Silena was second-hand crap.

_And the seventh thing I hate the most that you do_

Yeah, her cabinmates did a lot of kind of shitty things. But the thing that pissed Piper off the most?

_You make me love you._

Because ichor was thicker than water and no matter what, at the end of the day, they were still sisters together.

And, Piper had to admit, it was almost sort of…nice.

Not that she'd ever admit it.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviewer number 105 gets to pick the next Aphrodite girl to get a one-shot.<strong>


	20. Secrets

**For StackofStories, for being reviewer 105.**

They call Drew a fortress, because no man is an island.

Of course, anyone who knows her knows that's utter Minotaur crap.

Drew is a meadow. A beautiful open meadow with hills and grass and flowers and picnics and shit. Everything is on display for all to see. Who does Drew have to pretend for?

Well. That's not entirely true. There's a small collapsed cave in one of those hills. But only the little things are in there.

Like her piano. And her Jesus freak grandmother. And the fact that Drew isn't her real name. And, okay, her entire family on both sides.

But, really, who doesn't have secrets?


	21. Secrets Part II

**Secrets Part II**

Okay, maybe it's not a collapsed cave. Maybe it's a volcano.

And all those secrets are its magma chamber. One day, they'll break out. It'll be explosive.

And Drew's little meadow? Gone. Goodbye, flowers and trees and picnics and shit. Just call her Drew-suvius.

The thing about secrets is that they end up exploding in your face and ruining your life.

That's all well and good. Piper and Lacy and all of them are probably going to take advantage of that.

But here's the thing.

Drew is no expert, but she's, like, eighty-five percent sure that ashes are good fertilizer. So her beautiful open meadow? It'll come out on top.

And everyone in the meadow? All those Pipers and Lacys? Well, let her put it this way: they're still digging people out of Pompeii.

So let her erupt. Let her explode. And let her take every last one of her haters out. She'll be fine.

She's _Drew fucking Tanaka._

It's a good thing lava's her color.


	22. Piper

You sit on the roof of the Aphrodite cabin, staring out at the ocean. You can't sleep.

You can't sleep because Drew asked you why you loved him. And the thing was, you didn't have an answer.

He's _attractive._

He's**funny**_._

He's_**sweet**__._

He likes you back_._

**the thing is he isn't funny. leo's funny.**

So you sit, and you think.

He's _caring_.

He's **loyal.**

He's _**powerful**_.

**loyal? loyal to who? loyal to his friends? loyal to his camps?**

**what does loyal even mean?**

But that's not why. It's something else. You know it.

And then something occurs to you.

You're _attractive_.

You're **funny**.

You're _**sweet**_.

You like you back.

**sort of. you're working on funny.**

And you sit, and you think some more.

You're _caring_.

You're **loyal**.

You're _**powerful**_.

**and you're loyal to the only person that matters. you're loyal to you.**

**after all, you're the last person you'd betray.**

Why does it matter what Drew thinks? Or what he thinks?

Or what anyone else in the whole godsdamned world thinks?

You're through trying to please anyone.

So you storm into the cabin and wake up all of your sisters and brothers.

"It doesn't matter _why_ I love him. It doesn't even matter why he loves me.

The only thing that matters is that I do, and that I love me and I don't care what anyone else says, least of all you.

I'm happy and that's all that godsdamned matters."


	23. She Wore Scarlet

She wore scarlet.

(she was accused of the greatest half-blood sin—sexual relations resulting in a child with a god. she was pregnant and on trial and absolutely nobody was on her side. she was guilty.)

She wore scarlet.

(she stood there like her spawn was a privilege, like she was honored to bear it into being. but that couldn't happen. it—she was too powerful.)

She wore scarlet.

(her dress was tight and short and low and clung to her body in ways that were illegal in at least nine non-middle-eastern countries. she was dressed as no expectant mother should be. it was a disgrace. she was a disgrace.)

She wore scarlet.

("you may take away everything i hold dear. exile me, kill me, but you cannot and will not kill my daughter. her grandmother was burned away from around her father and he survived. she is more god than mortal. you cannot kill her that easily.")

She was on trial for her life and she wore scarlet.

(i am an aphrodite girl and so is my daughter. you cannot crush our spirit. you cannot crush our soul.)


	24. Barbie

People say that Barbie is an unrealistic ideal that drives women insane trying to reach perfection. That her body isn't real and that her proportions are all sorts of off.

People say that she leads to low self-esteem among women and a distorted view of the "perfect woman."

People say that Barbie is vapid and shallow and plastic and that her very existence sets feminism back a hundred and fifty years.

_Fuck_ what people say.

Barbie is a superhero. Barbie is a paratrooper. Barbie is an astronaut. Barbie is an Olympian.

Barbie is the President of the United fucking States of America.

Yeah, okay. She's an unrealistic ideal. But since when has showing women what they can become a bad thing? When has showing a smart woman achieving her potential become taboo?

So her body isn't real. It's made of plastic. Her boobs are bigger than her face and her waist is about as thick as her thigh. She's an eleven-and-a-half-inch doll. Stick her in the microwave, she melts. Everyone has their little problems.

The "Perfect Woman"? Maybe women's views are distorted. But at least Barbie tries. At least she does what makes her happy and doesn't let any person—man, woman, or other—dictate what she can and can't do. She is a strong independent woman who may not need a man, but would like one. Okay. So she's perfect. But why is being able to succeed a bad thing?

You show me another woman who's everything from a paleontologist to a ballet dancer and still has time to raise two sisters and look great.

Maybe Barbie isn't the best role model, but it's a hell of a place to start.


	25. Tightrope

To be a woman is to walk a tightrope.

Fall one way, you're a prude. The other, and you're a whore.

Slip off and every single person in the whole wide world knows that you can't handle it.

Thank Goddess they give you a big long pole with which to balance. Your womanly strength, the knowledge that _you_ are a force of nature and if they ever let you off that millimeters-thin wire, you'd so far outstrip them, it would be embarrassing. After all, that's why they stick you up there on that tiny tightrope. They're afraid.

Don't drop the pole.

It's a long way down from your tightrope.


	26. Apple

Apples are kind of the perfect Aphrodite girl.

_maybe not perfect, but truest_

Because on the outside they're temptresses

_just ask eve, or snow, or atalanta_

With their redgreengold skin

_that hides the bruises so well._

But on the inside they're sweet and white

_leave them out and they'll yellow and rot_

And clean as virgin snow

_at least for a little bit._

And then at their core

_they're pure poison._


	27. Advice to New Campers

Advice to New Campers

Look, I'm not a bitch to you because I don't like you. You're cute. But I don't care what you think, and, in all honesty, you so rarely cross my mind, it's an effort to even remember who you are.

Oh, you're my sister? Forgive me, was that supposed to make me care?

If it was, it didn't work.

I've grown up in a hard school. The kind of school where your father doesn't know you're alive and you're a disgrace to your mother and, sorry, you're supposed to be my family?

I realized at a very young age that family was that group of people you couldn't live without.

And, let me make this clear, the only person I can't live without is me.

* * *

><p>Family is your sister who calls you a prude when you don't sleep with enough boys and a whore when you do. Family is your father who thinks a pair of shoes three weeks late is enough to make up for not calling on your birthday. Family is knowing you have a mother but never meeting her.<p>

Family is never being able to see your daughter and knowing her father won't help. Family is bitches and witches and just wanting to be alone.

I don't think we should be family.

* * *

><p>My father is the kind of man who hands off the kid to a nanny and never sees her again.<p>

My grandmother is a nightmare.

My mother is absent.

My sisters hate me.

My brothers do too.

You sure you still want to be family?

* * *

><p>Advice? You want advice?<p>

Nobody here cares about you. That's my advice. This isn't the place where you find the magic little box you fit into. This is where we pick a box, cram you into it, and sit on the lid until you _are_ that magic little box.

Family's a myth. Just like gods and unicorns.

Only this one doesn't come true.

* * *

><p>Love isn't real.<p>

You can save your "But Aphrodite"s. Who do you think knows more?

The little brat who just got here or the girl who's third in line to take over?

But family? What do you think family is but love?

And there ain't no such thing, sweetcheeks. You might think you love this guy and that he loves you and you're gonna be the next fucking Percabeth or Tratie or, Gods forbid, Sileckendorf.

But then you realize as you're macking with his brother that there's so obviously _not_ love because otherwise you wouldn't be cheating on this perfect guy, you know?

So you can just save it.

* * *

><p>Don't be yourself. You'll never survive here if you do that.<p>

You're an Aphrodite girl now. The boys want you to be a whore, so they can love you and leave you and not feel bad. The girls want you to be vain and conceited so that they can console themselves about their great personalities.

The jocks want you to be weak so they can beat your ass more easily. The nerds want you to be dumb so they can feel intellectually superior. The prudes want you to be a slut so they look morally superior. The sluts want you to be a bigger one so they look like the good girls.

What do we want? We want you to be a big dumb vain whorey slut weakling. That way, you'll make it. We do want you to succeed. We're your family, aren't we?

But this is their world and you have to play by their rules if you want to make it.

* * *

><p>Don't worry about fitting in here. It takes all kinds to make a beautiful mosaic.<p>

We're your family and we're here for you. Remember that.

Oh, sorry, I have to run! I'm meeting my boyfriend at the Pegasus barn soon.

Any questions? No? Good.

* * *

><p><strong>I have a challenge for you. Each one of these pieces of "advice" is written by a different living Aphrodite girl. In some order, these are: Piper, Drew, Lacy, Katrina, Hannah, Janie, and Jenna. Whoever submits these names in the right order for their advice first gets to pick the subject of the next chapter.<br>**

**In addition, for each girl you get right, I will reveal a piece of trivia about that girl.**


	28. A Telephone Conversation

**Dedicated to Chocoholic Minion, who guessed the correct order. (Hannah, Katrina, Drew, Janie, Jenna, Lacy, Piper)**

"And get a boyfriend, Kitty. You need one of those. Remember, girls want to fall in love _before_ they want intimacy, but boys need intimacy before they fall in love. But don't give _too_ much away. They don't want to buy the cow if they can get the milk for free."

"Lauren—"

"Listen, Kitty, this is important. These are the things you'll need to know if you ever want to get a husband. You want to look popular. Guys want what they can't have. That's how I got Oliver."

"Lauren, I'm pregnant."

"Well. I always thought you were a bit young for this one, but this is one of the best ways to catch a husband. My friend Penny—you know Penny—she got pregnant by a Kennedy. Married two years last August. Summer homes in Newport, Kitty. _Newport._ I know you were smart enough to get pregnant by a rich, eligible, bachelor, right?"

"The father is Dionysus."

"_Kitty!_"

"Do you want me to apologize for it? Because I'm not going to. I like having sex. There is nothing wrong with liking to have sex. I enjoy having sex with lots of men. I'm safe about it, I'm not stupid. I don't care if I never marry a man with a summer home in Newport, Lauren. That's your dream, not mine. And I no longer care what you think. I haven't in years."

"Kitty, really? Don't be like this."

"You know what? I thought you'd be supportive. I thought you'd say, "My god, Katrina, I'm so sorry that your child will forever be an outcast who can't leave Camp Half-Blood! The trial you went through about whether or not you'd get smote must have sucked! And how you'll never ever get to see your daughter, hold her, braid her hair, anything? That must be torture!" That's what you should be saying, Lauren. And if you can't say that, then I can't talk to you anymore."

"I'd hope to God you're not braiding your daughter's hair. To be perfectly honest, Kitty, you're terrible at it. Not that that's _bad_. You don't have the face for braids, anyway."

"Lauren, I'm being serious."

"So am I, Kitty. Stick to a nice bun or a chignon. About the rest of it—Kitty, how am I supposed to console you if you won't tell me anything? I'm your _sister_, Kitty."

"Every time I try to talk to you, you tell me that I'm a whore and I should be dating more."

"Kitty, Mom and Dad didn't pass on marketable skills to us. Being pretty isn't enough these days. I want you to be safe, warm, and comfortable. I want you to be taken care of, Kitty. I'm your sister; is that wrong?"

"Don't you want me to be happy?"

"I thought you would be happy this way."

"I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you _can_, Kitty. But minimum wage jobs at gas stations don't buy Jimmy Choos."

"I'll do—something. I don't know. I don't need Choos to be happy. God, why are you never supportive?"

"What do you want me to say, Kitty? I can't fix this for you. I swore on my eighteenth birthday that I would never enter that godforsaken camp again. I told you, Kitty, I'm doing my damnedest to forget I ever was a demigod, that Mom's a goddess, everything. Maybe you'd be happier this way, too."

"I can't."

"There's your answer, then. How can I support something I've spent my life avoiding?"

"Goodbye, Lauren."

"Bye, Kitty."


	29. Ten Fingers

Are you ready?

Let's play **ten fingers.**

**/\\**

_I've never been to Europe._

**/clap\**

_I never stole thongs from Victoria's Secret_

**/clap\**

_I have never seen _Titanic.

**/clap\**

**/\\**

This game's pretty tame.

Let's _crank it _**up a notch.**

**/\\**

_I've never slept with the wrong person._

**/clap\**

_I never went streaking, just for the hell of it._

**/clap\**

_I have never gotten so drunk that I've passed out._

**/clap\**

**/\\**

This game is getting _**b*o*r*i*n*g.**_

What do you say we go _even deeper?_

**/\\**

_I have never hated my body._

**/clap\**

_I've never made out with my sister's boyfriend just because._

**/clap\**

_I never wanted to be somebody else's—anyone else's—daughter._

**/clap\**

_I have never hated myself._

**/clap\**

**/\\**

Uh-oh.

_**Looks like I'm not very good at this game.**_


	30. Forgiveness

Stay away from the **ex**-boyfriends

_(that's just, like, the rules of feminism)_

After all, they're **ex** for a reason

There's a reason you _**d-u-m-p-e-d**_ them.

And _what do you mean_ they dumped you?

You're an _**APHRODITE GIRL**_

Aren't you?

_**APHRODITE GIRLS**_ don't get dumped.

Don't talk to him, _honey_

He's your **ex.**

"_Hey, Jenna can I talk to you?"  
>"About what, Sean?"<br>"I just wanted to say that I forgive you."_

Now, why would you go doing something like that?

What part of _**don't**__ speak to him_ was unclear?

**Bigger**_better_strongerhotter things.

That's what happens when you trade in **last year's model**

Come on, _honey_

Aren't you ready to go shopping?

**Forget** about him.

"_Now, why would you do something like that?"  
>"Maybe I decided that I couldn't keep hating you."<br>"And why not? I do."_

I **remember** this one

_You broke his fucking heart, didn't you?_

You don't have to answer. I _know_ you did.

Didja think you needed closure?

You don't, _honey_

You **c-l-o-s-e-d** that relationship a _longlong_ time ago

"_Hate me?"  
>"Hate <em>_me__."  
>"Because of what happened with us?"<em>

And **so what** if you never loved him?

If you _thought you did_?

Love?

Honestly, _honey_, grow up.

You **never did**

And I _know_ you _know_ that

Can you help that he _**fell**_ and you didn't?

"_Because of what I did to you."  
>"What do you mean?"<br>"I broke your heart. I know I did. Go on, tell me I didn't."_

**Maybe** he wasn't _right_ for you

**Of course** he wasn't _right_ for you

I defy you to find a _boy_ who's right for an _**APHRODITE GIRL**_

You **realized **that eventually.

_It's not your fault he didn't do the same._

How you **reacted?**

_Honey_, who wouldn't have?

"_I'm moving on from that. Maybe you should, too."  
>"Forgiveness from others is a lot easier to get than forgiveness from yourself."<br>"That doesn't mean you shouldn't try for it."_

Are you **ready** to accept the _guilt?_ Are you **ready** to feel the _pain_?

Are you **willing** to forgive_ yourself?_

_**Of course you aren't.**_


	31. Mirror, Mirror

**tell me how pretty I am.**

**show me that I'm a good person please.**

**tell me how **_utterly beautiful gorg_**eous I look.**

**show me **_that you don't think I'm some sort of pos_**session**

**a little pre**_tty glass something only to look. say somethi_**ng about**

**my perso**_nality,my laugh, my inability to spell 'lascivious' or_** 'wanton'**

**make m**_e feel like you care about more than my burning need to gi_**ve you**

**what yo**_u want from me. make me believe that you think I am more_** than a**

**big bund**_le of insecure. care about my mind. care about my heart. don't _**let me **

**shatter li**_ke the windshield on the side of the road after the accident. don'_**t be my**

**acciden**_t. respect me. respect everything about me. treat me like you would t_**reat an **

**honestt**_ogod__ living human being, okay? stop pointing out everything I can't d_**o like I**

**don't k**_now I can't iceskate or dance or fight or be graceful or look right or an_**ything.**

**build m**_e up, don't break me down. make me feel good about myself. help_** me climb **

**mount**_ains and swim oceans and do things. don't hold me back, just let me_** fly free. **

**you h**_old me under your power and I will explode if you'd keep me trapped_** in your **

**evil spell. **_mirror mirror on the wall, help me to finally stand tall. help me _**become **

**the girl—**_a girl I'm proud to be once more. free me from the chains I we_**ar. help**

**me with **_the names I bear. see the beauty in my soul, not the makeu_**p or my **

**mole. s**_ay,for once, I am good enough. tell me that I need no mo_**re stuff**

**my face **_is fine, my body's yummy. stop worrying about my tu_**mmy. if**

**I'm fat, t**_hen I don't care. If I'm skinny, it matters nowhere._** mirror**

**mirror let **_me be. stop filling me with anxiety. stop mak_**ing me **

**hate mys**_elf. please, just bother someone else._** mirror **

**mirror o**_n the floor, I just can't care any_**more. **

**if I do, I'll lose my mind. mirror mirror,**

** go, leave me behind.**


	32. Dragons

**Here, there be dragons**

(_You're off the map now_

_Deep in the wilds of these unknown lands)_

Here, there be monsters

Wild beasts of natures unknown

And this—

your hell—

is their paradise.

**Here, there be dragons**

with their glimmering hoards hidden away

(_They say if you sleep in their hoard_

_and think their dragonish thoughts_

_you become a dragon, like them._

_That's why there are so many dragons.)_

Even the very land you walk on

—cloaked in mist by the greatest of them all

the mother of all dragons—

is of their hoard.

Even you are.

It does not take much

for the dragonish thoughts to creep in.

**Here, there be dragons**

rich and poor

old and young

good and bad.

Make no mistake, though—

these are dragons,

not people.

_(they say that dragons_

_can take the appearance_

_of a woman._

_It's how they have survived for so long.)_

They have their

dragonish games

and their

dragonish language.

And their vicious

poisonous

dragonish tongues.

Tread carefully, hero

for

**Here, there be dragons.**

* * *

><p>Hi! Shameless plug time. I don't do this often, but I have a story up called <strong>Titan<strong>. It's centered around a Titan soldier named Alex Carpenter. It explores his life, his choices, et cetera. Kind of like this, except focusing only on one person and, you know, more story form. So, not much like this. Anyway, I think you should go check it out.

Reviews on either would make me all sorts of happy.


	33. Daddy

Hi there, daddy.

_(Remember me?)_

Today, I painted a picture. It's of our family, daddy.

_(Look, there's you and Aspen and the baby. Where am I?_

_I didn't know I was part of the family.)_

Isn't it pretty? Look, there's our favorite picnic spot—right by Bridalveil Falls.

_(You can ignore the fire and death and x-ed out deer in the background._

_Someone hogged the green, Daddy, so I had to use red.)_

Daddy, where'd my picture go? Did you take it to your office, like the other daddies do?

_(I know you did, Daddy. You took it right up to the top of Half-Dome and let go._

_The winds told me, Daddy. I'm not stupid.)_

Daddy, why is Aspen sending me away? Is this because of Mommy?

_(Are you focused on making my picture come true?_

_It was already true. This is just cementing it.)_

Daddy, Aspen's friends have horns, and they're scary. Don't make me go with them.

_(I don't want to go to a pretty camp in the woods._

_I'm tired of woods, Daddy. I want to go where someone will love me.)_

Goodbye, Daddy.

_(Try to wait at least a few minutes before forgetting about me.)_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Reviewer #200 gets to choose the subject of the next chapter.<em>**


	34. For Drew

**For Beautifully Musical, for being reviewer #200**

_In the event of my demise_

Dear Drew,

You're the leader now, I guess. Nobody else wants the position. They used to say it was cursed, before I got it. The longest anyone had lasted before that was four months, two weeks, and three days.

You should know this. I have to tell someone. I can't go to the grave without saying it.

I, Silena Katelyn Beauregard, am a traitor. A big one. I'm Mata Hari, Benedict Arnold. I have been telling secrets to Luke and the Titans for years. Eighteen campers are dead specifically because of my actions. I'm not even counting the kids who died in the Battle of the Labyrinth.

Charlie is going on a mission tomorrow, and I already confessed everything to Luke. He promised that Charlie will be safe, but I'm worried. I think he might die tomorrow, and that will make nineteen.

I'm not a hero, Drew. Don't remember me that way.

You? You can be a hero. Be my hero. Don't let people forget what I am. Remind them for me when they forget. I am a big fat traitor. And I deserve to be remembered as such. Don't sugarcoat it, sweetie. That's never really been our style, has it.

We're sisters, Drew, and that doesn't mean a lot for people like us. But it means something. It means, "Please don't let the real me be forgotten." It means, "Forgive me and don't forget me." It means, "I am not a hero."

Gods, it sounds so cliché, doesn't it? This is my dying request. Like florals for Spring, or jewel tones for Fall. But I have a dying request, and it's this. This, and a gentle reminder that I look awful in most shades of black and would like a different theme for my funeral. Pink, perhaps? I'll leave that up to you.

Love or something,

Lena


	35. Pretty

Lauren Murdock has only ever been pretty.

This is to be expected, of course. Her mother is Aphrodite, and her father is hot enough to get two daughters out of it.

Lauren is sent to camp at nine, because Daddy is chasing other pretty women that won't give him babies. Her baby sister Katrina gets to stay home. Lauren is so pretty, you see, that monsters just keep finding her.

She learns quickly that she's got no special talents in sword fighting or knife fighting or archery. She can use a spear pretty well, but only if she pretends it's a curling iron. It's no surprise, really. Lauren's way too pretty to learn to fight. After a little bit, they stop teaching her.

She asks, only once, for a lesson in spear fighting from Clarisse. Clarisse laughs at her and tells her she's too pretty to learn to use a warrior's weapon.

That's when she knows she'll never be a fighter.

Lauren spends most of her tenth year at Arts and Crafts. She's been applying eye shadow and blusher like a champ since she was seven, and it's just another form of painting.

She spends three weeks painting a tree. It's intricate, delicate. Each leaf is meticulously outlined and given its own shadow.

When she shows it to Lee Fletcher, he takes her outside. Trees, he claims, are not supposed to be that sort of pretty. Majestic, maybe. But not pretty.

That's when she learns she'll never be an artist.

There are some careers, though, where Aphrodite girls excel. Lauren starts practicing her own form of art, her makeup, her hair, her clothes. She tries to sew her own dress to the Fourth of July fireworks.

She'll always have fashion, right?

The problem is, though, when she tries that dress on, it doesn't take an Aphrodite Girl to see she's hideous.

Lauren Murdock has only ever been pretty, you see, and she can't bear to lose it.

At eighteen, she gets the hell out of that godsforsaken camp, turns her back on all of that Greek shit, and embraces a new life.

One where being pretty actually matters.

She meets Oliver Vanderbilt at an estate sale. He buys her a drink, she bats her eyelashes. She enchants him, as only an Aphrodite Girl can.

She doesn't let him see the relief in her eyes the second the diamond touches her fourth finger, but she finally lets herself relax. She lets herself feel love and desire for her fiancé. She's finally made it. She'll be looked after and taken care of for the rest of her life.

Now, she has one goal. She's got to see her baby sister make it. Kitty's pretty, too, you see. She can't make it on that. Kitty's got one advantage Lauren never had. Kitty has the help of someone who _has_ made it. Someone who only wants to help her succeed.

Because here's the thing—when all you ever are is pretty, you know exactly how damn hard it is to make it.


	36. Persephone

Lacy's met the devil, once.

At a party.

In a bar.

(She's seventeen.)

The Christian devil, you know.

(Or the Norse)

But definitely not the Greek.

Or the Roman.

Or even Egyptian.

(She knows what those devils look like.)

The devil offers her a drink

But Lacy says no.

She's seventeen, she says. Not stupid.

(Persephone was seventeen and stupid, she knows.)

He smiles, a terrible wolfish grin.

Because most seventeen year olds aren't clever enough to figure these things out.

He lifts a finger, strokes her cheek.

(Lacy can feel the lust leaking out of his skin, and it scares her.)

He asks her if she wants what he wants.

Lacy doesn't answer.

(There are lots of things devils want, see.)

He laughs at her silence.

I like you better, he says, in these worlds.

In others, you know, you die.

Those worlds, he adds, are boring as hell.

(Devils, of all creatures, know hell.)

She has to ask how.

(It's simple human nature.)

How, she asks, do I go?

An arrow, he says conversationally.

A _Roman_ arrow.

You're a martyr, there.

Ended the war on the strength of your convictions.

(But a martyr, he thinks, is even more boring than tax returns.)

Well, she says, aren't I a special one.

(Aren't you indeed, my pretty, the devil asks.)

The devil smiles.

Drinks.

Hands her a card.

(Lacy didn't pull up the flower by the roots, and so remains in the land of the living.)

If you ever get tired,

(Curious, maybe.)

You call that number.

Pull up the narcissus.

Descend into hell.

(I'll be waiting by the phone.)

He leaves the bar.

Against her better judgement,

(Card clutched in her fist)

She runs outside.

Says, I never got your name.

You wouldn't expect me to call someone without knowing his name, would you?

(Never, in forty-five hundred years, has someone asked for his name.)

Fenris, he calls across the parking lot.

Disappears.

The devil is gone.

(Lacy drops the card.)


	37. The End is Nigh

**Hi. Yes, this is an A/N. Hence the bold and stuff.**

**I think a lot of my readers have moved on from this story. I have also moved on from this story. The last two chapters each received zero reviews. We had a good run, but all good runs must end.**

**If anybody is still reading this and still interested, leave me a review. I'm thinking that if enough people still care about my Aphrodite girls, I will try and post one last chapter dedicated to each of them, trying to sum everything up. Lacy's was last chapter.**

**If not, that's cool, too.**

**Leave a review and let me know what you think.**


	38. Baby Bump

_Month One_

Katrina cries for a week  
>Lacy can't go near her<br>And Drew marches right up  
>And slaps the daddy across the face<p>

_Month Two_

Hannah gets in a fight  
>Janie nearly kills a guy<br>And Piper leans over one night  
>To ask Jenna what's going on<p>

_Month Three_

The Hunters of Artemis arrive  
>Kill it or save it, it's all the same to them<br>When Pollux lights their cabin on fire  
>Lacy takes the blame<p>

_Month Four_

Katrina tells her sister  
>Chiron confronts Dionysus<br>Piper makes Travis Stoll  
>Apologize<p>

_Month Five_

Romans pop up like mushrooms  
>It's not long before they hear about <strong>it<br>**Octavian tries to kill her  
>Jenna teaches him a lesson<p>

_Month Six_

Dionysus comes with peace offerings  
>And baby toys<br>Lauren sends a brand new crib  
>Katrina starts to cry<p>

_Month Seven_

Very few attend the shower  
>Katrina doesn't mind<br>All her sisters are there  
>And also, there's cake<p>

_Month Eight_

Katrina gets into USC's film school  
>She's going to be okay<br>She's stronger than anyone  
>Ever gave her credit for being<p>

_Month Nine_

At eleven-thirty PM  
>Baby Daphne is born<br>By midnight  
>Katrina is gone forever.<p> 


	39. LMS for Truth Is

You want to know the truth?

_You can't handle the truth_.

(A Few Good Women may be in the Aphrodite family tree, but Hannah's not one of them)

**Truth is…**

(Facebook lms is so five years ago, but it's still hipster to do it ironically)

**Truth is…**

Truth is Hannah got to third with Sean Fogarty two weeks before Jenna got to second with Jake Taylor.

(truth is, she still doesn't feel guilty)

**Truth is…**

Truth is it took three Apollo kids to pull her off Will Solace after he called Kat a whore during arts and crafts.

(truth is, Kat was her favorite sister)

**Truth is…**

Truth is she hates her father more than her mother.

(truth is, she wonders if he still remembers her at all)

**Truth is…**

Truth is she lost her virginity to Luke Castellan just before the Battle of the Labyrinth.

(truth is, she fucked him after, too)

**Truth is…**

Truth is every Tuesday night, she takes all her clothes off and runs through the woods naked.

(truth is, it's the happiest she's ever felt)

**Truth is…**

_You want to know the biggest truth of all?_

Truth is she turns eighteen in twelve days and she has an apartment in New York lined up with three girls she met at a bar and the number of a professional photographer in her pocket and a job shooting for a petite women's catalogue and the second that clock hits midnight in eleven days, eight hours, and thirty three minutes—not that she's counting—she's going to be gone so fast you'll see smoke because she hates it here, that's the goddamn truth okay, she hates her sisters and her mother and her father and her stepmother and her aunts and uncles and cousins, every goddamn _remnant_ of demigodhood and she would love to let it all burn but she can't because Luke tried that, Luke tried that and he lost so she'll burn herself to the ground instead and be reborn in the ashes like a motherfucking phoenix—no, wrong religion, whatever, all the myths are true—as Hannah, just Hannah, not the pretty girl with the ugly personality, not the demigod who can't use a sword or a dagger, not the girl whose daddy came home with a goddamn tree and called it a stepmommy; Hannah, just Hannah, the girl three from the left on page nine and she can finally for once blend into the goddamned background and start her own life without the threat of mommy or sissy hanging over her head.

(truth is, she might just leave tomorrow)


	40. Reflection

If there's one thing that Janie's learned at her first year at MIT, it's that smart people are _stupid_.

It only takes a ponytail and a somewhat frumpy tee to blend in with all the smart kids. She gets a bigger backpack and ditches her Birkin bag under a pile of BCBG dresses she can't wear anymore. She sometimes breaks out a pair of glasses without lenses, if she's really in a bind.

All those MIT scholars, they can't spot the imposter in their mist.

Janie panics, sometimes. Too many "likes" spill into her sentences, or she forgets and wears her True Religion jeans to Chem. But nobody catches on. They're too dumb to figure out she's faking.

You see, girls like Janie go to Miami, or Santa Barbara, or whatever party school currently tops the list. Not MIT.

Now she's Jane, Smart Jane, Cool and Collected Jane. Nobody has to know that she can apply mascara blindfolded, one-handed, and drunk. Or that she once did body shots off a former Abercrombie model. Or that time she spent a weekend as a stripper after losing a game of truth or dare and made nine hundred dollars.

_(She can feel herself dissolving, losing bits of herself with every frumpy shirt and ponytail holder. She wonders if they'd like the real her, the one who reads Cosmo and likes to drink too much.)_

Over summer, she goes to camp and gets wasted twice a week on shitty vodka and Fireball. She practically lives in her favorite sundress from Dolce & Gabbana. She starts to use even more chtspk than Drew. All conversations revolve around Taylor's new album, Miley's latest paparazzi stunt, or the Kardashians.

_(It's not her, but it is her, closer and further and above all stupider than Smart Jane. Party Girl loses every last iota of Smart Jane over the summer. But the problem is that she sort of likes Smart Jane, and she is Smart Jane, but she isn't, not now, but she wants to be. Does that make sense?)_

One night, it's September, she's Smart Jane again, and there's a bottle of tequila in the bottom of her suitcase that her roommate can't know about, and her phone vibrates.

A number she doesn't know texts her: _I know you're faking._

Her first instinct is to deny it. **Faking what?**

_You're not a nerd. You've been faking this whole time. I'm not as stupid as the rest of our classmates._

**Who is this?**

_I'm not telling._

**How did you know?**

It takes almost twenty minutes for her to get a response. Twenty minutes of hyperventilating and trying in vain to keep Janie bottled up without exploding.

_Because I'm faking, too._

The next day, she wears her Dolce & Gabbana sundress. She curls her hair. It's Saturday, so she goes out drinking with a few acquaintances at one of the frats. She's not Smart Jane, not Party Girl. She's some uncomfortable crossover between the two and she has no idea if she's doing it right or screwing up everything.

A guy at the party asks her name. She says "Janie" without thinking.

She hasn't been Janie in a long time.

She kind of likes it.

Some friends don't talk to her anymore. Not since she started to go crazy on the weekends. A couple think she's been abducted and replaced, a la Stepford Wives. But some people like the new change.

_(She doesn't know what she is anymore. She's too fun to be smart, and too smart to be fun. Her grades aren't the sharp pointy As of last semester, half her old friends won't speak to her, and last week, she spent two hours analyzing the finer points of Scott and Kourtney's relationship. But she doesn't drink as much as she used to, two days ago, she wore a ponytail unironically, and she still discusses physics with her roommate until three in the morning._

_She doesn't know who she is anymore. But also?_

_She really doesn't care.)_


	41. Ladies

"Ladies!" Piper calls.

_Oh, __honey_.

**Drew's no lady.**

**Because real ladies say nothing if they can't say anything nice**

**And Drew likes talking too much to give it up completely.**

_Katrina's definitely not a lady._

_Real ladies sit with their legs crossed_

_And Kat keeps hers wide, wide open._

And Hannah's not ladylike.

Real ladies respect their mommies

and love their daddies

And Hannah can't do either.

_**Janie isn't a lady**_

_**For the simple reason that**_

_**Real ladies hold their heads up high**_

_**And are proud of their accomplishments.**_

_**Janie has no pride. And she'd rather keep her head down**_

_**So that people can see her brain.**_

Lacy couldn't possibly be a lady.

Ladies have confidence

Friends

And lives.

Lacy's zero for three.

_Jenna's not a lady,_

_By any stretch of the imagination._

_Real ladies are sweeter _

_than iced tea,_

_And Jenna's more bitter_

_than water hemlock._

_**Piper doesn't know**_

_**Why she said "ladies".**_

_**Gods know, she isn't one.**_

_**After all, real ladies,**_

_**proper ladies,**_

_**Are friends with their sisters.**_

_**And let's be real—**_

_**That's never going to happen.**_

* * *

><p>I had actually forgotten I'd written and not uploaded this. I still have four more chapters coming, but I wanted to get this up first.<p> 


	42. Shattered

_Drew. Silena. Piper._

Lacy has lots of sisters. Piles. Heaps. A bevy, a bounty, an abundance of sisters.

_Katrina. Janie. Hannah._

Sisters, however, sisters are competition.  
>It's why hyenas start killing each other three days out of the womb.<br>Competition for food, mates, love, scarce resources of every kind.

_Nora. Jenna. Lauren._

Sisters bury you in mountains of H&M miniskirts and drown you in Givenchy.  
>Sisters strangle you with ropes of pearls and handcuff you with Tiffany bracelets.<br>Sisters squeeze you with corsets and smother you in foundation and kill you with their kindnesses.

_Marilyn. Hedy. Audrey._

Sisters burn you with curling irons and break you with stilettos.  
>And when they're done, they leave you on the ground<br>smashed-up fragments of the girl you were.

_Antoinette. Cleopatra . Mata Hari._

But sisters aren't just limited to battering rams and wrecking balls.  
>Someone has to pick up the pieces, after all.<br>And Pinterest's made repurposing all the rage.

_Cindy. Tyra. Heidi._

Shattered teacups make mosaic tabletops.  
>Shattered plates make designer mirror frames.<br>And what do shattered sisters make?

_Josephine. Anarkali. Guinevere ._

Why, shattered sisters make the very best friends, of course.


	43. Til Death

Til Death Do Us Part, my dear

Drew's seen six weddings by the time she's ten years old. And every single couple is divorced by the time she's twelve.

_Keep the bouquet, darling…but throw away the groom_

She almost wants to ask, _what died?_

Did you die, or did he? A child, a mother, a pet? What caused your relationship to crack apart like the Titanic? (Til Death Did She Part, honey.)

Or was it something a little bit harder to explain?

_Never marry for money, sweetheart—divorce for it_

Was it the money that's **dearly departed**? The love? The sex? The fidelity?

Now, come on, you can tell me. We're a sweeter combo than a trophy wife and the pool boy, sugar.

Until Death do we part?

Oh, come _on, _chickadee_._

* * *

><p>Of course, sometimes they say <strong>As long as you both shall live…<strong>

Drew thinks this is funny, too.

Say there's a boat. And every time a part of the boat breaks, it's immediately replaced, until there are no original parts of the same boat left. At what point does it stop being the same boat?

Three hairs and an eyelash fall off. Am I the same person?

Bone breaks, is repaired. Am I the same person?

And let's say I go get a smoothie, baby, and it's raspberry and I spill it all over me and my new white jeans. And I go to town with the loofah that night, and I am red, raw, and in desperate need of a spray tan.

Am I a different person yet?

_Just give me a day in someone else's life, angel. That's all I need to feel better_

* * *

><p>And then Drew wonders,<strong> define living<strong>_._

_Never take life seriously, cutie pie. You won't make it in the end._

Does waking up each morning cut it? Are we talking medically or spiritually? You've got to help me, Reverend.

Do I just have to be happy, or does it take more work than that? Do I have to take those pesky ups and downs, love? Can't I just raincheck?

You just let me know, gorgeous.

* * *

><p>Drew's going to get married.<p>

She'll do it for money, for love, for desperation, for every bad reason, and maybe even a good one.

But don't get her wrong—she's not going to be someone's from wedding to death.

She's got way too much to accomplish, muffin.

* * *

><p><em>1-Modified Groucho Marx quote<em>

_2-Modified Wendy Liebman quote_

_3-Bastardized P!nk lyric_

* * *

><p><strong>Two more chapters left: Piper's next and Jenna's last.<strong>


	44. Battle Fatigue

_**Battle Fatigue**_

Part 1—Icarus

She wakes up at night

**S/C/R/E/A/M/I/N/G**

for him to

_step away._

_F_

_L_

_Y_

**D**

**O**

**W**

**N**

_**live.**_

But he can't/won't/_doesn't_

_**listen.**_

Icarus flies, soars—

**Icarus gets too close.**

All the myths are true, sweetheart,

and Icarus—well.

_**Icarus dies at the end.**_

Part Two—Stars

She says that he lives

_Of course she says he lives_

**can't he see that ****she's**

the one who needs

**c*o*n*f*i*r*m*a*t*i*o*n,**

_hope?_

**She's on the roof**

(metaphorically speaking)

_Teetering on the edge_

(not actually, of course)

And if she doesn't have that

~l~i~f~e~l~i~n~e~

in her hands,

she'll

F

A

L

L

_(goodness! don't you know a joke?)_

And she doesn't know if Jason can catch her.

Part Three-Scars

She's got **talon marks** on her _back_

(three harpies)

an _ankle_ that still **aches in the rain**

(Ma Gasket)

**gravel **embedded in her _palms_

(Dylan)

**three solid gold **_fingernails_

(Minos)

**scars** on her _knuckles_

_hands_

_arms_

(too many enemies and monsters to count)

But those scars? They don't matter.

She still _cries_ when she hears **Psych's theme song**

(Maenads)

She _can't ever eat_ **Mexican food **again

(his famous tofu tacos)

**Dragons** make her _unbearably sad_

(Festus)

_She wonders if these scars fade, too._

Epilogue

It's funny, you know—

she thought it'd be Jason.

Jason, the boy who _saw_ **Juno's true form**

the man _knocked_ _out_ at **New Rome**

the one _poisoned_ by **Imperial Gold.**

Not Leo.

Not the boy who _tamed_ the **Bronze Dragon**

Not the man who _built_ the **Argo II**

Not the one who _has a girl waiting for him_** on Ogygia.**

**(the war is over.)**

_**(the war is just beginning.)**_

* * *

><p>The final chapter will be released on Valentine's Day. It is Jenna-centric. The first and last words are "Jenna's" and "hit", respectively. I do not foresee any sort of sequel.<p> 


	45. The Last One Left

Jenna's the last one left, which is surprising. She was one of the oldest girls in the cabin, second to Drew. But, of course, that doesn't always matter.

Janie's off at MIT, making waves, being smart. Proving to everyone that hot chicks math hard, too. She lets her ponytail down on the weekends, and she damn well deserves it. Even the course description for Janie's orgo class makes Jenna feel stupid.

Kat's in LA, going to school, learning movie magic. Jenna heard she was interning on the set of _Wonder Woman_. It's supposed to blow, but the way Kat tells it, she's pretty much only allowed to get coffee for the guys in editing, so it's not her fault.

Hannah disappeared one night and sent in a catalog three months later with a very familiar blonde working a pair of ugly-ass capris to their limits on the cover. She's got a real high-fashion thing coming up soon—at least, according to the note scrawled over a hideous collection of scarves.

Drew's at Yale—because fuck you, that's why. Drew's a princess and a liar and a drama queen, so it makes sense she's at the best drama school in the country. She still doesn't play the piano, but she's shopping for a keyboard.

Lacy disappeared three weeks ago, leaving behind a receipt for a one-way ticket to Denmark and a potted narcissus. Jenna doesn't know what happened, but it's good for Lacy to take a risk. She's too damned sensible for an Aphrodite girl.

Piper? Piper's in LA, or San Francisco, or maybe Milan. Jenna doesn't know. She's with Jason, and her Insta feed is gorgeous. Too many goddamned perfect oceans. Like, can she take an ugly selfie for once?

So, Jenna's the last one left.

There are more, of course. Aphrodite hasn't exactly stopped reproducing. Six girls, four boys. And, of course, Kat's baby Daphne, who's an Aphrodite girl no matter who her daddy is.

The next generation's here, but maybe the last one's not ready to let go.

See, all of Jenna's sisters have lives. They have futures. Hell, they have personalities.

Jenna doesn't. If they're the real thing, she's the cardboard cutout, still torn up over a relationship _she_ ended three years ago.

But that's her fault. Jenna is terrified, you see. It's why she thinks she still clings to that stupid fling so many years ago. She doesn't like new things. She's afraid to discover. Change freaks her out.

Camp is familiar and safe and as long as she stays here and doesn't change she knows exactly who she is. She is Jenna. She is the counselor of the Aphrodite cabin. She is kind of a slut. She is.

Out there, she is nothing. She has nothing. No skills, no dreams, no desires. No way to make herself into something to be proud of. Or, hell, something.

Camp is a time to grow. Janie grew. Hannah grew. Kat, Lacy, Piper, Drew? They all grew. Jenna didn't grow. Jenna fought growing and time and everything else until she remained the same stunted fourteen year old that she started as.

But you can't fight growing and time, and it's passing and people stare at Jenna because she's way too fucking old to be here anymore and why hasn't she left yet? Doesn't she know how old and sad and pathetic she looks?

But she does, you know? She owns a mirror. She votes. For gods' sake, she pays taxes. She gets it. She's fucking ancient.

There's an old myth of a woman, Niobe, whose children paid the price for her pride. She was so distraught that even when the gods turned her into a rock, she still wept for them.

Jenna kind of feels like that rock. Stuck in the same place, unable to get over one thing, crying, never changing. If you remove the part about "the deaths of fourteen children" and the other bit about "being turned into a rock," they're practically the same story. Sort of.

Jenna hates herself, in a different way than normal, a little more every day she spends here. But when Chiron delicately broaches the subject of her departure, she flips her shit. Like, who is Chiron to tell her to move on? She knows that. She doesn't need to be reminded of it, especially not by some little bitch of a centaur.

That's when she decides she needs to go.

She's an Aphrodite Girl who needs to find herself, so you can be damn sure she's doing it right and going to Europe. And, hell yeah, she's blogging about it.

She's thinking she might start in Denmark, see Lacy. Or Paris, since she speaks the language. Or Liechtenstein—she hears there's a prince there about her age. Maybe not Greece just yet. When she hits Greece, she wants it to be bikini weather.

Alternatively, she's thinking she'll just buy the cheapest flight, start there. She's already bought her unlimited Eurail pass, her stylish carryon, and her European phone, so she's pretty much set.

Stay tuned for _The Basic Bitch's Guide To Europe_. Jenna thinks it's gonna be a hit.


End file.
